Mathilda's Stand
by phineas81707
Summary: Lady Mathilda's Deliverance is on the ropes. They are lacking in both numbers and information- and the nature of the situation means neither can be easily reversed. So, a mistake sets them back... quite a bit.


Mathilda looked at her map, the pieces signifying the enemy's known movements getting slightly confusing as she stared. She knew there was a missing piece, one she felt uncomfortable making a move without knowing… but at the same time, trying to find that piece was likely going to need a move on its own.

"It's gotta be… the Southern Outpost? Nah, too remote… hm… what do you think, Clive?" Mathilda asked, turning to face Clive. Clive had been staring at her intently, though he appeared to be facing the map.

"Mathilda, I know you will choose the right path," Clive remarked.

"Clive, it's cute and all that the woman is going out and kicking names while the man stays home, but I think I'd prefer a husband with a little bit more spine," Mathilda snarked, turning back to the map and moving the pieces around thoughtfully. Clive, shaken, started doing the same, but his movements were not based on the known movements of the enemy armies.

"...Clive, could you please stop that?" Mathilda found herself asking. Clive jumped away, nervously eyeing the board now.

"Milady Mathilda, if I may…" Fernand spoke up. Mathilda jumped, having forgotten he was here, and watched as he traced out a plan of his own.

"...I see. But what do we stand to gain?" Mathilda asked in response. Clive, having not quite understood Fernand's plan, left the two to their tactics, and made to move out on his own.

"See you later, Clive. Remember not to stray too far from the hideout!" Mathilda told him. Clive nodded, and left the room.

* * *

Clive left the hideout, and made for a nearby lake. He always felt calmest near water… he was hoping that that was enough. He wasn't a leader- that much was obvious. He wasn't very good at thinking strategically… so what _could_ he do to help Mathilda? He knew he was skilled with a lance. Not as adept as Mathilda herself, maybe, but since he wasn't worried about the overall field, he could focus on the battlefield. Maybe he'd make a fine bodyguard.

 _Snap_

Clive's head whipped around. He heard a gentle breathing, trying to match the wind but falling slightly out of step. Someone must've followed him. Probably Clair- the girl's devotion to him was impressive. Possibly as great as his own devotion to Mathilda. Clive felt like he should have gotten an idea from that… but he didn't. Clair's contributions to the army were possibly the only noble's that he could say were less than his own, and even then he didn't have a lot of confidence in that. Clair's pegasus certainly pulled more weight than he did, even if the rider was an unknown quantity. He heard a rustling behind him, but paid it no mind. He knew he had a mystery to unlock, and if it took him all night, he was going to make himself useful to Mathilda.

"Who the devil are you?" a tough voice asked. Clive looked up, and noticed Slayde and a few Rigelians. He gasped, and leaped to return to the hideout. He sunk to the ground in pain, and turned. An arrow had emerged from his leg.

"Darn you…" Clive muttered, as the Rigelians slithered forward with purpose. Before he could manage to try and rise, they had his hands bound with rope- and mercifully, his leg bound with a bandage.

"Marvelous work. You would be Sir Clive, husband of Lady Mathilda of the Deliverance, correct?" Slayde asked, eyeing him. Clive growled.

"You will address me as Sir Clive of the Deliverance. I am no mere husband," Clive growled. Slayde let out a mocking laugh. To his disappointment, the Rigelians did not.

"You are no knight of the Deliverance, Clive. In fact, you are going to tell me where your friends are holed up. And don't think we won't find out… we can't be far, can we?" Slayde asked. Clive looked around, and noticed that there were Rigelians missing.

"...As if you can make me talk," Clive growled.

"Well, I certainly seem to be doing a lot of that. I'm more concerned with making you say the words I want you to say. Now… where is your secret base?" Slayde asked, bringing his face to Clive's.

"Slayde. I've good news," a dull voice called. Slayde looked up, and his eyes shone with excitement. He turned Clive's head around, and Clive knew the game was up.

A dainty leather shoe was in the Rigelian's hand. And from the look on his face, he found it outside the hideout.

* * *

"We've gotta run," Clair told Mathilda. The militia men of the Deliverance, few in number as they may have been, were still crowded outside the door. Clair had made sure to warn them, and to tell them to get their friends.

"Very well… men. Find anything important and either pack it or destroy it. You have two minutes," Mathilda told them.

"And that's a generous estimate," Clair followed. The men nodded, and started zipping around the room. The men knew better than to go to any room that required a visit to the foyer. Fortunately, the only things in such rooms were personal in nature, rather than important to the stakes of the Deliverance.

"Clair… what happened to your shoe?" Mathilda asked. Clair looked down, and winced.

"I must've lost it…" Clair muttered. A branch snapped, loud enough for everyone to hear. Mathilda gasped, and pointed to an escape tunnel.

"GO! NOW!" Mathilda boomed. Everyone filed in, with Lukas and Forsyth counting heads as they passed. Forsyth followed the last of the rank and file, while Lukas waited on Clair and Mathilda.

"Go, Clair," Mathilda told her.

"I'm not leaving my brother," Clair told her.

"I promise you I'll get him back. Go! I don't want to see you hurt!" Mathilda told her. Lukas grabbed her, and ran into the passageway. Mathilda took her lance, and waited for the enemy faction. Her breaths were laboured, her eyes darting towards the passage every now and then. Were they safe? Or was the secret exit compromised? Mathilda's mind was still drifting towards the idea of a trussed up Clair to the extent that, when Slayde burst into the room, she thought she saw her in his grasp. Mathilda was almost relieved to see Clive instead.

"Mathilda… perfect," Slayde remarked. The Rigelians entered the room, the archer readying his bow. Mathilda held her lance firmly, knowing the outcome. She was too valuable to be let go. She looked at Clive, knowing in her heart that it was him that brought Slayde here… even though it was unintentional, his imprisonment would be penance. Mathilda took in a breath.

"Let Clive go, and I'll come quietly," Mathilda growled. Slayde chuckled.

"Now why would I go and do that?" Slayde asked. Mathilda took in a breath and bit back tears. She was sure Clive was going to remember this until his dying day.

"He's harmless. The Deliverance will beat him if you try to force him to fight, _I'll_ beat _you_ if you try the opposite. He does nothing for the Deliverance's upkeep. Hell, without me, the Deliverance might even be _worse_ off with him. They'll have no leader. But more importantly, if you don't let him go, I'm going to kill one of you before that archer hits me. Possibly more, if I'm lucky. And I'm sure you're well aware that you could be one of those people, Slayde," Mathilda coolly stated. Clive's face betrayed not hurt, but shame. Even if her words were true, she would rather not have said them… but Mathilda wanted Clive free. For Clair.

"...Very well, Mathilda," Slayde remarked, and the Rigelians loosened their grip on Clive. Mathilda dropped her lance, and allowed the Rigelians to bind her. Clive stepped away, and allowed Slayde to walk away with his prize.

"Goodbye, Clive. Know that your wife abandoned you here… may you rot," Slayde chuckled. Clive grunted, but Mathilda made no sound. The Rigelians looked at her worriedly, and she let out a horrified scream, to their satisfaction. Clive kept a solid eye on them before he began edging towards the secret passage. Clair left it, and untied him.

"Come on," Clair muttered, pushing him into the passage before one of the Rigelians doubled back. Lukas helped him along, while Clair paused at the exit. She took in a breath, before steeling herself. Mathilda was gone… but she was going to try her hardest to take her place as the Deliverance's morale keystone, at the least. She was ready to admit she was nowhere near a seamless replacement, but the Deliverance was going to have to make do.

As it was, Mathilda's loss was going to devastate everything.

* * *

The Deliverance waited with bated breath as Lukas and Clive left the mouth of the exit. They started peering behind them, looking for Mathilda to come by, her appearance still beautiful even with the dishevelled marks of battle, with words of encouragement. Clair appeared from the hole, and started jumping on the sides, sending a few rocks cascading down. Lukas caught on, and got to work loosening some bigger stones to seal the passage. When everyone else caught on, they realised their hopes were dashed.

"Mathilda is captured, and it's all my fault," Clive told them. Clair scoffed.

"You mustn't blame yourself, Clive. I was the one who lost my shoe," Clair told him, stepping forward. Clive stepped away.

"I was the one who got them looking… I was the one who made Mathilda give herself up…" Clive told them. Everyone gasped, and recoiled. Even Clair gave pause.

"...Mathilda gave herself up because she loved you, Clive," Clair told him, holding out her hand. Clive turned away.

"I'm not worthy of that kind of sacrifice. She said as much herself. I'm… I'm only going to slow us down," Clive remarked. Clair looked at Lukas worriedly.

"Can you lie to him and say he won't?" Clair whispered. Lukas looked worriedly at Clive, but Fernand approached first. Lukas nodded, and turned back to Clair.

"We'll need a strong hero to tie this army back together," Lukas observed. Clair looked around, noticing the worry Mathilda's capture had brought them.

"How are we to be so lucky to find one of those?" Clair asked.

* * *

Mathilda was brought towards a throne shrouded in darkness. She could see the legs of Desaix and a black-clad knight, but little else- especially when being thrown forward forced her head facing down.

"Well well well… if it isn't the valiant defender of the Deliverance, Lady Mathilda. Come to beg for mercy?" Desaix asked. Mathilda looked up, mustering as much malice as she could.

"You know I will do no such thing, Desaix. The Deliverance will not die today. Cli-Clair will lead them to glory, and I will be freed. And when that day comes, you will know the pain you will put me through," Mathilda growled.

"I always love talking with you, Mathilda. You give such colourful threats. But I'm afraid you happen to be wrong this time. Berkut," Desaix barked. Berkut stepped forward, looking down on Mathilda with disdain.

"Slayde tells me General Mycen still lives in the village of Ram. The Deliverance would do well with a man like him, wouldn't they?" Desaix asked. Berkut looked down at Mathilda.

"Wouldn't they just… that's why I'm going to kill him, girl," Berkut told her. Mathilda smirked.

"Do you honestly think Mycen is going to be the one to bring out Clair's inner potential? A man meets his destiny on the path he sought to avoid it. You will make more enemies than you quash, Berkut," Mathilda told him. Berkut smirked.

"Then I shall simply have to be thorough, shouldn't I?" Berkut told her, standing and leaving Mathilda with Desaix.

"Well, Mathilda, it's been fun, but I think it's time you began your torture," Desaix growled, and the Rigelians picked her up.

"You're not going to do it yourself?" Mathilda asked.

"I have to deal with the rest of your friends. I'll enjoy torturing you and Clair later," Desaix told them, grinning as Mathilda gave her first solid, genuine thrash. He was looking forward to her face when he threw Clair beside her, beaten physically and emotionally by her loss to his superior army...


End file.
